The Reluctant Bachelorette (6 page)

Oh no. Taycee let out a groan as she sunk to the floor and
buried her face in her hands. What was it she’d said to him? Something about
the possibility of matching him up with his future bride?

No, no, no, no, NO!

She’d have to move. Far, far, far away. It was her only
choice.

L
iterally overnight, Taycee became
the
town celebrity. As she walked down Main Street people clapped her on the back
and told her how excited they were for the show to start. How grateful they
were that she was willing to do this. How she and Jessa had given the town
hope.

Patsy’s finger wiggled at her in passing. “I knew it would be
you. I just knew it!”

“You’ve always been such a dear,” came from Linda.

A bear hug from Tom.

Taycee mumbled a quick thanks to everyone, and then darted
across the street and into the diner. What she needed was curly fries. Lots of
curly fries.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the famous bachelorette,” cooed Liza
from behind the counter.

Taycee bit back a groan. Seriously, was she not allowed at
least one break? “You seem to be here a lot lately. Are you full time now?”

“As of two weeks ago.”

“Oh. How nice.” Maybe Taycee should have opened a diner
instead of a flower shop for no other reason than to give people another
option.

”The fact that you’re now the bachelorette doesn’t mean you’re
going to start expecting special treatment, does?” said Liza, straightening her
apron. “Because you still have to wait your turn just like everyone else.”

If by “turn,” she meant being continuously pushed to the back
of the line for at least thirty minutes, then yeah, Taycee already knew that.
“Don’t worry. I would never let it go to my head.”

“Right.” Liza rolled her eyes, implying that it already had.

A part of Taycee snapped inside. Who was Liza to judge her
anyway? She didn’t know anything about anything. She just jumped to whatever
conclusions she wanted to make for whatever reasons she wanted to make them.
Fine. Whatever. If Liza chose to think Taycee was that conceited, then so be
it.

Taycee picked up one of the take-out menus and held it up. ”While
I’m here, would you like something autographed? A menu maybe? Or would you
rather take one of the leftover bachelors? I’d be happy to steer one or two your
way once they get voted off.”

“You mean like Luke?” Liza baited. “Or are you planning to
keep him around for a while?”

Play it cool. She’s only trying to get a rise out of you.
“Oh,
weren’t you listening last night? That decision isn’t mine to make.”

“You only wish it was.”

“No. I really don't.”

Liza glared. “Then why did you agree to it?”

I didn’t, you brat!
But Liza already thought the worse
of Taycee, so why bother? It’s not like throwing Jessa’s name under the bus
would change anything. She shrugged. “Something to cross off my bucket list, I
guess.”

“Wanting to be a bachelorette on a reality show is on your
bucket list?”

“Heavens no,” Taycee deadpanned. “Dating twenty guys at the
same time is.”

“Figures.” Liza glowered as she punched buttons on the
register. “Let me guess. Curly fries and a chicken salad sandwich.”

“Actually, I’ll take two orders of curly fries today, thanks.”

Liza’s finger stilled, and one of her drawn-on eyebrows raised
a notch. “You do know the camera adds ten pounds, don’t you?”

“Make that three orders.”

“Fine.” More hard punches. “That’ll be a few minutes.”

“Shocker.” Taycee turned toward the tables. It wasn’t too
crowded, but her favorite booth was already occupied by the one person Taycee
never wanted to see again. Of course it would be Luke. And of course he’d be
sitting within hearing distance of her conversation with Liza. Why hadn’t she
expected it? Prepared for it, even?

Taycee should have stayed home. Closed her shop. Powered off
her phone. Sat on the couch and watched TV all day. Maybe that would have put a
stop to this Murphy’s Law of a week.

She sank down in the nearest empty seat with her back facing
Luke. More than ever, she needed those curly fries. All three orders of them.
Her fingertips tapped on the counter, beating out an uneven rhythm.

The chair next to Taycee’s slid out with a screech, and Luke
sat down, dropping his lunch on the table in front of him. “I didn’t know you
had a bucket list.”

“Eavesdropper,” she muttered.

“What else is on it?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Taycee said. “Swim with penguins in
Antarctica. Become an American Gladiator. Invent meatloaf flavored ice cream.”

Luke’s lips twitched. “Dating twenty guys should be a breeze,
then.”

“Yep. Easy peasy.” But really she was dying inside, as
evidenced by her burning face. It didn’t help that Luke watched her over the
rim of his glass as he sipped his drink, making her feel like he could read her
mind. Taycee resisted the urge to squirm.

The glass clinked back on the counter, and a teasing glint
appeared in his eyes. “You know, if you wanted to date me, you could have just
asked me out.”

He was taunting her, just like he used to do when they were
kids. Still, Taycee stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“I probably would have said yes—at least before you dragged me
into your little show.”

Could this day get any worse? Why hadn’t Taycee left last
night? Fled the town, the state, the country like she’d planned? “It’s not
my
show.”

“You’re the bachelorette, of course it’s your show.” His elbow
came to rest on the table as Luke leaned forward, still teasing her with his
eyes. “Tell me, is this usually how you get guys to date you?”

Taycee’s fingers clenched around her napkin encased utensils. She’d
had enough—of everyone. The gratitude. The expectations. The accusations. The
taunting. Not even curly fries were worth this. She shoved her chair back and
stood. “You know what, Luke? You’re just as cocky as you were back in high
school. And for the record, you’re the last person in the world I’d ever want
to date. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner you get voted off, the better.”

With that, Taycee turned on her heel and ran straight into a
guy carrying a plate of ketchup coated French fries.

Taycee’s fist banged against the wooden apartment door.

“Jessa McCray! Open up!” she yelled.

A moment later the door cracked open and two blue eyes blinked
at Taycee. “Is it safe?”

“Now!”

“Okay, okay.” Jessa unlatched the door and swung it wide,
allowing Taycee to brush past her. “Are you here to yell at me again?”

“What do you think?”

Jessa sighed. “That you’re here to yell at me again. Hey, what
happened to your shirt? Is that ketchup?”

“Yes, it’s ketchup! Do you have a problem with that?”

The door clicked closed. “Wow, somebody’s in a good mood
today.”

Taycee glared.

“Okay, okay, fine. Yell away. But then can we please get past
this? It’s only been one day, and I can’t stand you being mad at me.” With
tentative steps, Jessa stepped around Taycee with her pink and green striped
socks. Dressed in matching green sweats, Jessa was obviously working from home
today—not that posting Taycee’s picture all over the internet could be
categorized as work.

Taycee followed. “I want Luke off the show.”

“What? Why?”

“Why? Because I do, that’s why. I never would have suggested
him if I’d known I was the bachelorette.”

A jug of apple juice sat on the kitchen table. Jessa poured
two glasses and handed one to Taycee. “But I thought you liked him.”           

“Used to!” Taycee practically shouted, setting her glass on
the table with a clunk, sloshing some of the juice over the side. “As in past
tense. Back when he was actually nice and not cocky, conceited, and . . . and .
. . ”

“Gorgeous?”

Taycee glowered. “It’s the least you can do after what you’ve
done to me.”

In her graceful way, Jessa sank down on a burgundy chair and
criss-crossed her legs. With the cup clutched between both hands, she sipped
her juice, and then watched Taycee over the rim. “Put yourself in my place,
will you? The town all voted Luke in. He agreed. And last night, I added his
name and profile to the website as Bachelor #21. Discussions have already
started about how dreamy the 21
^st
bachelor is, and how people can’t
wait to see him on the show. Do you really think I can change that now?”

Taycee groaned and flopped down on the sofa. How had she
gotten herself into this mess? How had everything gotten so out of control so
quickly? In only a matter of days, she’d gone from being normal, nice, and
sane, to the complete opposite—running around like a crazed, immature lunatic.
It wasn’t her. She was the flower girl of the town—the happy, independent
creator of bouquets.

It was all Luke’s fault. Jessa’s too, of course, but it had
begun with him. Before he came back to Shelter Springs, Taycee’s life had been
good. Controlled. Predictable. Just the way she liked it. But now everything
had changed. Luke’s arrival had been like a catalyst, catapulting Taycee into a
world of emotional turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” Jessa said. It sounded sincere, and an apology
from Jessa came about as often as a lunar eclipse.

“You do realize you just apologized, right?”

“I know, I know. But you’re my best friend, and I don’t want
this to mess that up.”

Taycee sighed. The truth was, neither did she. As domineering
as Jessa could be, Taycee really had no better friend in the world. “I’m sorry,
too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday, even though you deserved it.”

Jessa took another sip of her drink. “If you’re really that
upset about Luke, we can always change things around and give the choice back
to you. I’m sure I can come up with another way to raise the additional funds.
Maybe we could hold some auctions instead. I’m sure we could get some
businesses to donate stuff.”

For a second, Taycee actually considered it. If she were the
one to give Luke the ax, he wouldn’t be able to accuse her of wanting to date
him anymore. Then maybe this whole embarrassment would go away. Maybe he’d go
away. Maybe he’d even stop calling her Taycee Lynne.

But the image of Pat’s dejected face came to mind as well. The
hurt in his eyes. The way he’d run out on her, and the guilt she’d felt at
being the cause of it all. It was still too fresh, and Taycee couldn’t be the
one to say “I like you and you, but not-so-much you or you. Sorry.” Besides,
maybe Luke really would follow through with his plan to be un-charming and get
himself voted off. If so, problem solved.

She shook her head. “No, let’s stick with your way. I don’t
want to be the one who decides.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. But I do have one request.” Taycee shot Jessa a
pointed look. “And you and I both know I’m in a place where I can demand
something
.”

Jessa’s bright blue glittered fingernails tapped against the
armrest. “What is it?”

“No rose ceremonies.”

“But—“

Taycee’s hand shot up. “I mean it. I refuse to give a flower
to any guy in any sort of formal ceremony. It’s horribly cheesy and would be an
embarrassment to us all. We’re going to announce the winners on the blog and
that’s that. No ceremonies. No roses. And no saying goodbye in person. Got it?”
Taycee had given a guy a rose only one time in her entire life—a Jean Giono to
Luke the night before he left for college. To this day, she could still see the
what-in-the-world-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-this look on Luke’s face and hear
his “Uh, thanks, just what I always wanted” response. No way would she go
through that experience ever again.

Jessa gnawed on her lip for a short time before finally
nodding. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Not only would it simplify things for
Burt and Megan, but you’re right. It would be much less cheesy that way.” She
paused. “If I agree to this, am I forgiven?”